


Moments of a Life Lived in Love

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Series: Redemption of a Heart [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bechdel Test Pass, Community: onceuponaland, F/F, Female Characters, Female Homosexuality, Female Protagonist, Female Relationships, Female-Centric, LGBTQ Female Character, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five moments in the relationship between Regina and Emma, following the stages of love model.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stage 1: Attraction - First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Regina/Emma, implied Regina/Emma/Ruby, implied Regina/Danielle  
> Date Written: 10 July - 3 October 2012  
> Word Count: 9530  
> Written for: IDF2012 Big Bang, [](http://onceuponabang.livejournal.com/profile)[**onceuponabang**](http://onceuponabang.livejournal.com/) , & [](http://onceuponaland.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://onceuponaland.livejournal.com/)**onceuponaland** 's Round 3 Bingo Challenge  
> Artist: [](http://theonlyspl.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://theonlyspl.livejournal.com/)**theonlyspl**  
>  Link to art: Coming soon  
> Prompts: Regina - Evil Wins, Regina/Emma - forbidden fruit, Sexy, Bandaged, Regina/Emma - bathrobe  
> Summary: Five moments in the relationship between Regina and Emma, following the stages of love model.  
> Series: Redemption of a Heart  
> Spoilers: Consider the entire series up for grabs, but specifically references episodes 01x01 Pilot, 01x02 The Thing You Love Most, & 01x05 That Still Small Voice  
> Warnings: No standard warnings apply.  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: <http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/>  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Once Upon a Tme," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Kitsis/Horowitz, and ABC Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Once Upon a Time," ABC, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: This baby took me a long time to complete. What's funny is that I started this baby before I started writing Redemption of a Heart, but this mostly happens after that story. It's not 100% canon to that series yet, mainly because I have a lot of writing to do to get caught up to this, but I'm fairly certain this will all end up canon, just with a few minor modifications here and there. I really, really love writing from Regina's POV. She is quite possibly the most intriguing and thought-provoking character I have ever dealt with, and I cannot get enough of her.
> 
> Attribution Notes: The spell cited in the second section of this story is taken from the "Apple Love Spell" in [_The Craft Companion_](http://tinyurl.com/9cwextl) by Dorothy Morrison. The stages of love used for the section titles and basic interlacing thread of this story come from Ruth D. Kerce's ["The Five Stages of Love"](http://www.dateseeker.net/articles/5_stages.html), with further research coming from the [Singles Cafe](http://www.singlescafe.net/AdviceForWomen/stages.html). The reflexology I used for the foot massage in Stage 3 is based on [this chart](http://www.littleepiphany.com/massage/foot-massage-chart.htm) at the Little Epiphany Holistic Massage & Herbs website. And, for the record, the heart stimulation is what pushed Regina over the edge.
> 
> Dedication: My muses, as always. Lana Parrilla, for breathing life into a character that has quite literally stolen my heart and soul from me. I will never be the same again because of Regina Mills.
> 
> Beta: [](http://shatterpath.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**shatterpath**](http://shatterpath.dreamwidth.org/) , [](http://luscious-words.livejournal.com/profile)[**luscious_words**](http://luscious-words.livejournal.com/) , & [](http://wistfulwatcher.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://wistfulwatcher.livejournal.com/)**wistfulwatcher** are all beta goddesses. If there are any remaining errors, they are totally my own stupid ass' fault for being there.

From the personal journal of Regina Mills:

It was the strangest thing. Even before the noise assaulted my ears, I knew something was wrong. To my dying day, I will never be able to fully explain _how_ I knew, just _that_ I knew.

She butchered my tree. If I hadn't gone out there when I did, she might well have destroyed it completely. I cannot have that. It's my last truly tangible link to my home, my true home. Its magic is stronger than even Daniel's wedding ring or the hearts stored in the vault. I draw every bit of my strength and meager magic in this world from my beautiful tree. If it's gone, what will I have left?

I cannot believe anyone could be so damned malicious toward someone they don't even know. All I did was make sure that she was familiar with the rules in this town. The first rule is that nothing happens in Storybrooke that I don't want to happen. The second rule is that I am in charge here, both as Mayor and as the Evil Queen of the Enchanted Forest. Even if no one remembers that last part, it's still utterly true. The third rule is that Mr. Gold is not to be trusted or bartered with unless it's an absolute necessity. Like when I got Henry. And the curse.

If she so much as _looks_ at my tree strangely, I'll kill her. It's not like I can't find ways to cover it up and make it go away. I _own_ this town. I created it out of ~~desperation~~ magic and righteous vengeance. I'll not have some random stranger damage or destroy all of my work over the years.

I knew she was a loose cannon. That much was obvious in my first meeting with her. I don't care how she came to meet my son. She's unreliable and unstable. Clearly, the best decision she's ever made in her life was giving up Henry the second he was born. The second best decision she'll ever make will be to leave Storybrooke, and Henry, forever.

The sooner, the better.

My god, I can't even see any sort of similarity between them. Well, I suppose Henry's determination comes from that woman. I'd prefer to think that I taught him that perseverance and desire will win out over anything else it comes up against. After all, look at my lovely town and all of its unhappy inhabitants.

They look nothing alike, my son and that woman. He's stockier than she is, and both his eyes and hair are darker than hers. Hopefully that means there's at least some sort of proper breeding in his biological father, whoever that is. I will completely count as random chance the flecks of green in Henry's eyes that match the color of her eyes. Just as there are the tiniest splashes of his brown in her eyes, alongside the gold and blue.

And what is it with people in this town and cinnamon in hot chocolate? Henry can't drink the stuff without it. I've had to stomach past my disgust to make it for him, just to keep him away from Granny's. Not that it helps much, but any control I can exert over who and what he interacts with is good. And now I find out that _she_ likes it, too? The only other person I know of that has ever liked that particular concoction is…

That _woman_ whose unhappiness is my only goal in life. Clearly his strange infatuation with Mary Margaret allowed her to influence his preference for cinnamon in his hot chocolate. There's nothing more to it than that.

Is there?

Could it be that this strange woman, my son's birth mother, is that damned baby that eluded my clutches and my beautiful curse?

No, it can't be. It's just some damned coincidence. I will not even entertain the thought that my beautiful son is related to my greatest enemy. It cannot happen.

If I have to kill that woman to ensure that my curse is never broken, I will. Henry will get over the hurt of losing her soon enough. Besides, it's not like they've known each other all that long. It's not like she's become a permanent fixture in ~~my~~ Henry's life.

Once she's gone, things will go back to normal around here.


	2. Stage 2: Romance - A Kind of Magic

The minute I walk into the house, I can tell that something is different. I can't say _what_ precisely, just acknowledge it. Henry's spending the night at a friend's house -- imagine him becoming more social ever since Emma came into our lives -- and I have to wonder if the lack of his presence is the reason. As soon as the thought enters my mind, I shake my head at its lack of basis. Henry's spent time with his friends before and I haven't felt this. It's a tingling along my skin, more or less like the precursor to a lightning strike. It's almost seductive, but I don't know where it's coming from, and that is terrifying.

And then I hear a noise from the kitchen. It sounds like slightly off-key singing. Curiosity gets the better of me and I go to investigate. Quietly stepping into the doorway, I have to bite my tongue to stop from laughing at the sight of one Emma Swan singing and dancing about my kitchen wearing one of her ubiquitous tank tops, a pair of boxer shorts, and my favorite apron. I don't recognize the song playing on her iPod, but I'm also too thoroughly distracted by the movement of the muscles in those long legs of hers. But seeing the gaudy red nail polish on her toes brings up a bubble of laughter from my belly.

"What the hell?" Emma yells, stopping to stare at me as I grip the wall to keep from sliding to the floor in my amusement. "Damn it, Gina! Don't _do_ that!"

"What--" I clear my throat and wipe at the tears in my eyes. "What are you doing in my kitchen, Emma?"

She strikes a dramatic pose and smirks at me. "Dancing, clearly." When I raise an eyebrow, she chuckles sheepishly. "And making you dinner."

"I thought you said you burn water," I reply, stepping into the kitchen to take her in my arms for a quick kiss.

She scowls, but returns the kiss. "I've gotten better!" she protests, arms wrapping around my waist. "Besides, Ruby helped with the really complicated stuff."

I lean back to study her face for a moment, then sniff the air delicately. Something does actually smell quite good. "What really complicated stuff? And what are you making?"

She shakes her head, an impish grin on her face. "You need to go get out of your scary Madam Mayor corp drag first. Meet me in the den for our before-dinner appetizers."

Chuckling, I tap the tip of her nose with a finger. "Don't we normally do that in the bedroom?"

"Oh, ha ha," she says, pouting at me, and points toward the stairs. "Go change. I did a lot of work today on this."

"With Ruby's help," I reply as I walk out of the room, chuckling as she growls.

Once I reach the bedroom, I strip out of my clothes immediately, making a mental note to do laundry over the weekend and hit the dry cleaners on Monday. Unsure of Emma's plans for the night, I slip into an old pair of yoga pants, one of her tank tops, and a favorite sweatshirt from when I'd tried jogging a couple of years ago, then wash my face and head back downstairs.

As I descend the staircase, I realize what that tantalizing smell is: venison. Where on earth did Emma and Ruby get venison? And how would either know that I like it? Shaking my head at the wonder of it, I continue down to the den to pick out a movie for our night in. Knowing Emma's penchant for snuggling, I opt for some scary movie that Henry bought her, but I know she hasn't watched it yet because it's still in its protective cellophane. Not that I'll be paying much attention to it, but it makes her happy, and that's all that matters to me.

"Mmm," Emma says and I turn to see her leaning in the doorway. "You look good when you strip off the corp drag, Madam Mayor."

Glancing down at my clothes, I roll my eyes and put the DVD in the machine. "Please," I tease with a grin. "You'd be happier if I wasn't wearing anything, right?" Emma shrugs nonchalantly, but her eyebrows waggle suggestively, and I laugh. "You've got a terrible poker face, Emma Swan. How on earth did you manage to fool all of those miscreants you chased after as a bail bondsman?"

Emma snorts and gestures for me to sit on the couch, but doesn't say anything as she wanders back toward the kitchen. I do as she requests and pull the blanket off the back of the couch to spread across my lap as I wait for her. She comes back in after a couple of moments with a tray of food and drinks. Setting it down, she leans over to press a kiss to my lips before sitting down. I can see brie and camembert cheeses spread on crackers, a few slices of prosciutto, baby carrots, and a sliced apple with a dish of honey. Quirking a brow, I study Emma's face.

"Dinner's gonna be a bit yet," she says, not quite meeting my gaze, "but I thought you might like a little snack first."

Nodding slowly, I reach forward to snag one of the crackers with brie, but Emma slaps my hand away.

"What the hell?" I ask with a frown.

"Let me, Gina," she says softly, holding up the cracker to my lips.

I accept the treat and chew slowly, watching her grab one herself, topping it with a slice of the prosciutto. She moans softly as she eats it, and I can feel the desire oozing down my spine to pool in the pit of my stomach at the sound. She really can make the most basic and mundane things sound positively obscene. She continues to feed me morsels of food for the next several moments, but I notice that she never once touches the apple or honey.

"Emma?" I ask, looking pointedly at the fruit.

She grins sheepishly and offers me a piece of carrot. "You know you can't have your dessert first, Regina," she says, then mock-glares at me as I chew and swallow. "And I am not the dessert in question here."

Her reply makes me laugh and I lean in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "But you're my favorite dessert," I whisper against her lips.

She shivers at that and swallows her own mouthful of food. "Okay, time to go check on dinner. Don't touch anything!"

Sighing, I sit back and wait for Emma to return from the kitchen. Without thought, I reach for a necklace that isn't around my neck. It makes my heart ache, and then I remember who is here with me. Taking a deep breath, I can smell the venison even more clearly now, and my mouth waters. She bounds back into the room, a triumphant smile on her face as she settles on the couch next to me again.

"You didn't manage to burn down my house, I see," I tease lightly as she picks up the last piece of prosciutto and holds it to my lips. I open my mouth to accept the morsel and her fingers, sucking lightly before I release them to chew and swallow the salty meat. "Mmm, my favorite snack," I purr contentedly. "Well, part of it, at least."

She flushes at that, making me grin broadly. Clearing her throat, she picks up the bowl with the apple slices and honey. Dipping a slice into the honey, she holds the whole thing up to my face. Without hesitation, I accept the treat, delighting in the taste of my beloved honeycrisp apple combined with the raw earthiness of the honey. I barely finish one slice when she offers me another; she continues this until there's only one slice left. As she holds it to my lips, I see something in her eyes that I can't quite define. Again, I accept her treat and relish the taste combination. But as it goes down, something is… _different_.

"Emma?" I ask, hand going to my chest, that sensation of impending lightning dancing across my skin again. "Emma, what's going on?"

"What?" There's fear in her eyes, her voice, combating with the pride and that indefinable emotion. "Gina, are you okay?"

My skin feels like an infinite army of ants is crawling over it. My chest feels heavy, full, like my heart's been replaced by something overlarge and far too heavy for the space it's contained in. I close my eyes against the first wave of vertigo, hand fisting around the material of my sweatshirt over my heart.

"Emma, what's going on?" I ask again, panic now starting to creep into my voice. "Where is it coming from?"

She sets the dish aside now and touches my forehead. "Oh, Gina, baby, you're burning up. What the hell?" She scrunches up her face in concentration. "It was just supposed to help you, not hurt you."

"What did you do, Emma?"

"It was Danielle's idea!" she says quickly, then scowls. "It was just a little love spell."

I blink rapidly, trying to keep her face in focus. "You used magic on me?" When she sheepishly nods, I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and head resting in my hands. "How could you? You _know_ magic is unpredictable here!"

"It looked harmless," she says, getting up to pace. "And I don't think Danielle would do something to hurt you."

The movement jars the couch just enough to make me feel nauseated, and I have to take deep, slow breaths to keep from vomiting. Then again, purging my system of whatever is in the food might not be such a bad idea. I just don't want to clean up the mess.

"Where-- Where did you get the spell, Emma?" I ask, feeling my entire body ignite as if on fire. "Maybe I can figure out a counter spell or an antidote that doesn't require me heaving up the contents of my stomach."

She races out of the room at my words, coming back just a moment later. I hazard the chance to glance up at her and recognize the book in her hand: one of my spell books. My _personal_ spell book. She's flipping through the pages, sitting next to me as she thrusts the book at me.

"It's this one."

With trepidation, I look at the page she has open and blink in surprise. There, in my precisely flowing handwriting, is the spell she used.

> _Apple Love Spell_
> 
> _To keep love growing strong and true, wait until the moon has waxed for 3 days. Wash a red apple in cold water, then polish it while saying, "Sweetest fire of fruit so red,/Warm mind and heart, and turn the head". Kiss the apple 6 times, then give it to the one you love._

No wonder Danielle… Oh hell! I remember what happened the one and only time I used this spell in the past. Damn it!

"Emma, you used my own magic on me? With an apple from my own tree? Are you insane?"

"It looked harmless! I wasn't breaking any rules, Gina, I was just helping keep our relationship strong, that's all."

I want to explain why she should never mess with someone else's spells, especially in a land where magic is so unpredictable, but I can't. An overwhelming need takes over and I shove the book aside to pull her closer for a demanding kiss. She gasps at the movement, which allows my tongue access to her mouth. When I finally pull back, her lips are kiss-swollen and her eyes are wide with a combination of fear and desire. I can't help but laugh as I realize _exactly_ what Emma's done, particularly by adding the honey, which was exactly what Danielle had done all those years ago.

"Is the food away from the heat?"

"What?" she asks, staring at me.

I repeat my question more slowly, eyes drawn to the plump, damp skin of her lips. When she nods, my lips curve into a smile. "Good," I purr, "because you are going to learn firsthand why this spell has only been used once before in my life, and why you shouldn't tamper with a spell unless you know what will happen. I hope nothing of what you and Ruby made will spoil."

With that, I push her back onto the couch and begin to use the only antidote known for my younger self's spell: time. When I'd first cast this spell on Danielle, not long after she'd divulged her true identity, we'd spent several hours locked in passion's embrace. It was as if we were beset by succubae and would die without the physical release of orgasm. Even then, I knew that something wasn't right about the spell, but I never had need to test it again. I'd honestly forgotten I even had it anymore.

"Wait, Gina..." she says, staring up into my eyes. "I'm sorry. I love you."

"I know, my darling Emma, but we must ride out the remainder of this spell." And then I grin devilishly. "But your dinner will definitely come in handy once we're done. Venison is an excellent meat to replenish the body."

Rather than words, Emma responds by pulling me down into another heady kiss.

Yes, tonight's plans have changed, but definitely for the better.


	3. Stage 3: Passion - Tenacity

When Graham hired her as his deputy, I wanted to throttle him. She's a bail bondsman. Woman. Whatever. And she's a former criminal in her own right. She shouldn't be anywhere near law enforcement unless they're putting her behind bars. Where she belongs.

I don't know why she's still here. No, that's not true. I do know why she's still here.

Henry.

She's foolishly gone and gotten involved in his life, and let him wrap her around his little finger. Or is that the other way around? I'm not exactly sure. Either way, I don't like it.

The knock at the door distracts me from my thoughts, and I turn to see the very object of my musings standing in the doorway.

"You wanted to see me, Madam Mayor?"

"Come in, Ms. Swan," I reply. "And close the door."

She does as she's asked, without question for a change, then comes closer to my desk. This allows me the opportunity to study her more closely. Her well-worn jeans are molded so tightly to her body, they're practically a second skin slung low over her hips. This, combined with the short hem of her shirt, allows for a strip of skin to be exposed on her stomach when she lifts her arms at all. The red leather jacket does nothing to offer any better coverage of her torso. In fact, it seems to be encouraging her shirt to ride higher toward her waist.

She grabs the chair across from my desk -- a sturdy, plain, wooden chair that I had brought in specifically for her -- and turns it around to straddle it backwards. Her forearms rest on the back of the chair, one hand cradling her chin, and she stares at me. If I shift just right, I can see the deputy's badge gleaming from her waistband, right next to that strip of exposed skin.

Is it wrong that I want nothing more than to stroke along the band of her jeans? Just to feel the muscles in her stomach twitch under my touch?

"So?" she finally asks. When I quirk an eyebrow at her, she sighs. "Look, Regina, I don't have time for this. Just say whatever it is you have to say and I'll be on my way."

"You may be a deputy, Ms. Swan, but you don't get to tell me what to do."

_Only in the privacy of my fantasies._

Where in the hell did _that_ come from?

"Whatever. Can we just cut to the chase?"

Eyes narrowing, I stare at her for a long moment or two.

"Fine. I don't want you to think that your position as Deputy of Storybrooke means that you get more time with my son."

"It's not my fault that Henry seeks me out, Regina," she says.

I can see the defiance in her eyes, and want nothing more than to use all of my resources to remove it. See her kneeling at my feet, wanton and begging me for the tiniest scrap of attention and affection. Pouting those pink lips in an attempt to entice me into being lenient with her. Batting the lashes fringing those lovely green eyes gone dark with arousal.

"--do you expect me to do, Regina?"

Her voice brings me back to the present and I find myself staring at her, trying to figure out what she's just said. "Excuse me?" I ask, willing those indecent thoughts from my mind.

She takes a deep breath, drawing my eyes to her chest, and lets it out in a heavy sigh. "Look, I know you're not happy that I'm still here and gainfully employed, but it's time to face the facts. I'm sticking around and I want to have a stake in my -- _our_ \-- kid's life."

"I hardly think you have any right to call the shots here, Ms. Swan."

She explodes to her feet, pacing in front of my desk. Those thoughts I'd tried to banish? Right back in the foreground as I study the play of muscles under worn jeans that look tight enough to have been painted on. The glint of her Deputy's badge draws me to her waist; I feel dirty for my disappointment at not seeing that strip of bared skin again. Without thinking, I lick my lips, digging the nails of one hand into my thigh under the desk to keep from getting up and going to her.

"Is something wrong, Regina?"

Blinking at her curious tone, I meet her gaze and hope I've got an appropriate glare on my face. "Cramp in my foot," is all I can manage to say. I fight the urge to blush at her knowing smirk. I've just been caught ogling the enemy.

"With those killer heels you wear, I'm not surprised," she says, stepping closer to my desk. "They can be pretty painful. You should try to rub it out. I could do that for you, if you'd like. Consider it a peace offering."

As much as I don't want them to, my eyes widen in fear as she steps around the side of my desk to stand next to my chair, a teasing smirk on her lips. "No," I say, wincing as my voice cracks slightly on that single word. "No, I'll be fine."

"Oh, come on, Regina," she says as she moves my chair to face her. Kneeling down, she rests her hands on my knees for a moment. "Which foot?"

"What?"

"Which foot has the cramp?" she asks, enunciating each word slowly before she glides her hands down to my right ankle. "I mean, I can massage both of them, if you'd rather. I'm sure they're both killing you."

Before I can stop her, she eases the lethal Jimmy Choo off my foot and sets it aside. Her hands are warm on my instep and ankle. She shifts her grip and digs her thumb into the soft skin just below the ball of my foot. The sensation shoots directly from my foot to my groin and I let out an appreciative groan.

"Ms. Swan," I say when I'm able to find my voice again, but it comes out in a far breathier tone than I intended. She doesn't stop her tender assault on my foot. I am _squirming_ in my chair from what she's doing to me. I don't dare acknowledge the images forming in my head of what her talented hands can do to other parts of my body.

"Emma," she murmurs huskily as her fingers find and press into a particularly sensitive knot of muscle in the arch of my foot.

"Emma," I moan in a breathy tone, eyes fluttering shut as I nearly melt into my chair. I can feel myself getting more aroused with each second her hands remain on my foot, but I'm powerless to stop her. Every single time I open my mouth, she finds another spot that needs her talented attention, rendering me speechless. "Oh gods," I moan as she shifts to the other foot, resting the first on her firm thigh.

"Poor, poor Regina," she murmurs as her fingers find aches and pains in my left foot that I didn't even know were there. "She's so tight and wound up that she's ready to explode at the simple touch of fingers on her skin."

My toes curl into her thigh, delighting in the satiny smooth material. Each stroke on my skin is like fire along my nerves, and I can feel my desire spiraling higher and tighter. No one's ever made me feel this out of control in my life. That it has to be this damnable woman only makes the sensations that much sharper and needier. "I hate you," I growl, "but if you stop, I'll murder you where you stand."

Her delighted laughter wraps around me like a cocoon, ghosting along my skin. "Not planning on it, Gina."

Gina? Nobody calls me that but… Before I can say anything, she presses particularly roughly into my left arch, making me cry out.

"Shh," she murmurs, fingers stroking my skin gently. "Just relax, baby."

My eyes snap open and I blink repeatedly, trying to figure out just what the hell is going on. It takes a few seconds to realize that I’m flat on my back in my bed. That would explain the satiny smoothness. Lifting my head slightly, I can see her standing at the foot of the bed, fingers working their magic on my left foot. She presses into my arch again and I see stars as an orgasm rolls over me, seemingly out of the blue.

"Emma?" I rasp, throat dry, when I finally have some semblance of control over my body again.

"You were asleep and muttering about a cramp in your foot," she explains softly as she crawls up the bed to stretch out next to me. "I thought I'd help" -- she grins and ghosts her hand over the painfully erect nipples straining against my nightgown -- "and apparently I did."

She sounds so smug, I want to slap her. But I can't; I can't even move right now. "How did you do that?"

"Pressure points," she replies and leans down to press a tender kiss on my lips. "Well, reflexology actually. I mean, I didn't _intend_ to get you all horny, but clearly your… _heart_ needed a little stimulating."

"You owe me, my darling."

"Don'cha think you've got that backwards? I got _you_ off, not the other way around." I glare and slap ineffectively at her, which only earns me a chuckle. "So what _were_ you dreaming about?"

I can feel the flush heating up my cheeks at the memories, but answer her anyway. "Exactly what you were doing, only in my office," I reply with a scowl. "It was the day after the mine collapsed and…"

"Clearly it ended very differently from the meeting we had that day," she supplies, finishing the sentence for me when I can't. "Were you thinking about this that day?" she asks finally, poking me in the side.

"NO!" I reply, squirming away from her touch.

"You answered that pretty quickly, Gina." She grins and nips lightly at my shoulder.

"Unless you like sleeping on the couch, you'll drop it." And before I can stop the thought from forming in my head, the words are laid out between us in my own voice. "Or just keep nibbling like that."

I can see the amusement in her eyes, but she doesn't laugh. I am inordinately grateful that she doesn't, already feeling far too exposed by this strange dream-cum-reality situation. She leans in closer and presses a tender kiss to my temple.

"Sleep, my Gina," she murmurs, reaching down to pull the covers up over our bodies. "We can talk later."


	4. Stage 4: Intimacy - Wound up in You

Walking into the house after a day filled with more meetings than I can even remember, I'm stunned by the silence. Since we've begun living together, there's always noise greeting me when I come home at night, even if it's just Henry watching television. But not tonight; tonight there is nothing but the low background hum of the electronics and appliances. The sound tugs painfully at my heart, memories of my lonely life here without Emma and Henry vying for attention.

With a sigh, I head upstairs to change and shower. Perhaps Emma and Henry have decided to get dinner from Granny's as a surprise, so I don't have to cook. Emma's been so good about that sort of thing lately. I don't deserve her…

Noticing the yellow sheet of paper taped to my bedroom door, I stop and stare at it. Emma's sloppy handwriting is scrawled across the page, and I'm reminded just where our son gets his penmanship from. My heart leaps painfully into my throat at the first line, but I force myself to continue reading.

> _Gina,_
> 
> _I'm sorry I won't be home when you read this, but this is how it's got to be._
> 
> _I want you to take a shower as soon as you've read this. Well, first I want you to text me, so I know you're home, then shower. Then you need to dress in the outfit in the garment bag in the closet. You have forty-five minutes to get ready from the time you text me, and then I'll be home._
> 
> _Henry's staying with Snow and Charming tonight, so don't worry about him._
> 
> _I love you, my Gina._
> 
> E
> 
> _P.S. Don't you dare look in the garment bag before you shower. I'll know if you do, because you won't be ready in time for your surprise._

Curiosity will definitely kill this cat, based on this note from Emma. Damn her! She _knows_ I hate surprises.

Shaking my head with a sigh, I remove the note from the door and step into the bedroom. The note goes into the top drawer of my nightstand with other of my keepsakes. I grab my phone and type out a quick message to Emma.

> _I'm home now. You know I hate surprises, my darling, but I'll be good. See you soon._

Her reply comes almost instantly.

> _Good. Get your cute butt in the shower. Love you… *kissyface*_

I wrinkle my nose at the cutesy endearment she tacks onto the end of nearly every text she sends me. Setting the phone aside, I strip out of my clothes and head into the bathroom. The shower is nice and hot, water needling into my skin to strip away the distasteful dirt of dealing with the citizens of this town. There are still several who want to see me run through with Charming's sword for what I've done to them. They don't believe in anyone changing, especially me, but they certainly want to use me and my pitiful excuse for magic to help defeat Rumplestiltskin. Pathetic, all of them.

Tears spring to my eyes at the futility of what my life has become since Emma broke the curse. Having a constant shadow any time I leave my home wears on a person's soul in the end. Doing everything I can to try to atone for some of the horrible things I've wrought, only to have those efforts disparaged and denigrated, makes it even worse.

Emma was in some of those damned meetings today. She _saw_ how they all reacted. The only thing that keeps them from destroying me is Emma. Their precious Savior. The one that saved them all from the Evil Queen's Dark Curse. Do they complain that she didn't deliver them back to the Enchanted Forest? No. But they certainly complain about how horrible their lives have been since the curse was enacted.

Scrubbing roughly at my face with the washcloth, I will the tears away. The pain is pushed back behind the heavily barred door that houses any chance of hope that I'll live freely one day. I've lived in a prison of one sort or another for my entire life. Why should I think that finally getting my happy ending with D-- Emma and Henry will be any different?

"You're not being fair to Emma and her surprise," I mutter to myself. "Don't ruin it before it even happens."

With a sigh, I work through my ablutions quickly, scrubbing my skin far more roughly than it really needs. The pain helps to focus me in the present again, allowing me to find that inner strength and serenity that I need to survive.

Wrapping a towel about my body, and another around my hair, I wander back into the bedroom. For a few seconds, I consider calling Emma, just to hear her voice, but a glance at the alarm clock says that she'll be here in less than thirty minutes. Clearly I spent too long in my thoughts in the shower. Shaking my head, I pad over to the closet and open the door to find the garment bag hanging on the hook inside.

With careful fingers, I unzip the bag and pull out the smaller bag inside. A quick perusal reveals a black strapless bra and the tiniest scrap of black lace underwear I've ever worn. If it bore a tag, that would be bigger than the panties themselves.

"Why did you even bother?" I mutter with a broad grin, mood already picking up.

I toss both items onto the bed, along with the gorgeous new black Jimmy Choo strappy heels nestled in the bottom of the bag next to a small jewelry box. Opening the box, I find a pair of dainty jade earrings in a shade that nearly matches Emma's eyes. Tears fill my eyes and I struggle to will them away. I'm in tears and I haven't even seen the dress yet! One or two deep breaths restore some semblance of control. There is _no_ way I'm going to greet my Emma with puffy red eyes.

The dress comes out next and I gasp in surprise. It is black, short, and strapless. Covered in tiny iridescent black seed beads and sequins, it shimmers in the dim light of the bedside lamp. I cannot hold back the tears now, startled by the care Emma has clearly utilized in picking out this outfit for me. All I can do for a long moment or two is stroke the length of the dress, delighting in the feel of the sequins and beads under my fingertips.

The buzz of my phone brings me out of my reverie and I move to grab it.

> _Only 20 more minutes left, Gina. I hope you're getting dressed by now. *kissyface*_

Smiling, I want nothing more than to curl myself against her taller body, but I will see this surprise through to its conclusion. Anything else would be disrespectful.

> _The dress is beautiful! You spoil me, Emma. What did I do to deserve you?_

Her reply is practically instantaneous.

> _You live and you love. Love you…_

Blinking back tears again, I send one last message before setting my phone aside.

> _I love you, too._

Checking on the time again, I sigh and forego my usual routine of lotion and powder after showering. I pick up the scrap of lace passing as underwear and slide it up my legs. The bra goes on next before I wander back into the bathroom to fix my hair and makeup. My face is purposely covered lightly; the dress is clearly the focus tonight. Not that I'm complaining. I consider styling my hair much as it usually is, but I change my mind at the last minute, letting it air dry to allow that slight bit of wave that Emma loves so.

Stepping back into the bedroom, I notice that I have only five more minutes until my love shows up. Butterflies begin to flutter in my stomach as I take the dress off its hanger. I hold it up in front of me before the mirror and fight the tears again. I will _not_ ruin my makeup! Before I lose myself to nerves, I unzip and step into the dress. Just feeling it glide up my body, knowing that Emma has chosen this specifically for me, has me shivering in need and anticipation. As I pull up the zipper, I realize that the bra really isn't going to work at all. The zipper is lowered enough for me to take off the bra, then I pull it up to the top and reach forward to rearrange my décolletage to more advantageously suit the dress.

"My gods," I murmur, staring in the mirror at cleavage that I haven't seen in nearly thirty years. "Oh, Emma, my darling, you probably didn't plan on this, did you?"

I bend over to pull on the shoes, then tug at the dress to resettle it over my chest. Putting on the necklace with Danielle's ring and inserting the earrings also require the same maneuver to the dress. Okay, that could become old quite quickly. Before I can do more than consider that thought, the doorbell rings.

Reaching into my closet, I pull out a lacy silver shawl to wrap around my shoulders. Taking one last look in the mirror, I smile and drop my phone in my handbag. Walking down the steps seems to take forever, but I'm finally at the front door. As I open it, I pray that it's Emma standing there.

"Oh my god," she breathes as the door opens fully. "Baby, you look fantastic!"

I don't answer her right away, staring dumbly at my lover. Her lovely long hair is pulled back in an intricate French braid that ends in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her makeup is tasteful and understated, as are the diamond studs that I bought her for her birthday. Continuing my perusal of her body, I take in the dashing figure that she cuts in the obviously tailored tuxedo. Onyx cufflinks glimmer at her wrists in the porch light, as does the silver chain of a pocket watch draped across the vest covering her torso. She's even got proper shoes on for a tuxedo. Hands in her pockets, Emma smiles sheepishly at me when my eyes return to her face.

"Hi," she says softly, and all I can do is lick my lips with a tongue that feels far too large in my suddenly dry mouth.

"Hi," I reply just as softly. "You look…" And then I realize what's been off in her appearance. Without thought, I reach forward to press my hand over her sternum and glide it down to that dangling silver chain. I know that sensation under her clothes. "You're… Are you hurt?" As I utter the words, her face blurs slightly and I see Danielle's face again from that night when Secret had colic.

She shakes her head. "Nope."

"You…" I am having serious issues getting any words out tonight. "Why? _How?_ "

"I'll explain it later," she says, holding out her hand to me. "Come along, my lady, your carriage awaits to take you to dinner."

I take her hand and let her close the door behind me. We walk down to the limo parked in front of the house. I don't remember a limo service, but I'm sure there is one in town. As we near the limo, I can see Ruby standing there, holding open the door, only closing it after I slip into the backseat. A moment passes before the other door opens and Emma slides in next to me. That she does it as I'm adjusting this damnable dress again makes me flush hotly. She chuckles softly, letting me know she's caught my blush, and leans in to press a gentle kiss to my lips.

"Where are we going?" I ask when we reluctantly pull back from the kiss. "And what is Ruby doing?"

"She's our chauffeur tonight, driving us to Granny's," she says, and I feel my heart sink.

"Seriously, Emma?"

She laughs and cups my cheek. "No! What kind of idiot do you think I am?" When I part my lips, she quickly adds, "Don't say it!" I stick my tongue out at her. "Don't you stick it out unless you're gonna use it, Gina."

I grin and lean in closer to trace her lips with my tongue. "There. I used it."

***

Dinner ends up being at a lovely restaurant I've only ever used in the past for political dinners. When we walk into the room, all conversation stops and every eye is on us. Once again, as it has always been since the curse was broken, I feel incredibly exposed by the staring. Even more so tonight, as I stand here in this little dress.

Emma's hand on the small of my back is warm and comforting as she guides me to our table. Surprisingly, it's near the dance floor. The waiter doesn't bother to give us menus, which can only mean that Emma has planned our meal ahead of time. Not that I mind in the slightest.

The waiter brings a bottle of expensive champagne to the table, and I can't help but raise an eyebrow, wondering just how my lover is going to pay for all of this. I can't help but tug at the dress again, hating that it's so uncomfortable. Emma raises her champagne flute, prompting me to do the same.

"A toast," she says, smiling. "To the most beautiful woman in the room. Thank you for being in my life."

I blush at her words, unable to speak over the lump in my throat. I truly do not deserve this beautiful, incredible woman in my life. She clinks her glass with mine and takes a sip of the champagne. I follow suit, unable to make a coherent thought. And then she's on her feet, holding out a hand to me.

"Emma?"

"Dinner's going to be a bit," she says softly. "Come dance with me?"

"Now? In front of all these people?"

She smiles broadly. "It's not like they don't know we're involved, Gina."

I flush hotly again, but take her hand as she pulls me up and leads me onto the dance floor with the other couples already there. We begin our dance at a respectable distance from each other. I can feel eyes on us, but don't look at anyone but Emma. In no time at all, she pulls me close and I automatically mold myself to her body, head resting on her shoulder as we slowly sway to the music. She shifts slightly, a hand resting at the small of my back, fitting our bodies even more closely together. Until I feel something in her groin that shouldn't be there. I pull back to stare at her, but she doesn't let me move too far.

"Emma? What the--"

"Shh," she says with a gentle smile. "That's your surprise for later. There's no need for everyone to know about it."

I curl back into her body, suddenly incredibly aware of the proximity of the other people around us. We dance through two numbers before Emma leads me back to our table where our food is already waiting. I'm not hungry at all, not knowing what surprises Emma must have in store for me, but I force myself to eat. There's no sense in wasting all of this lovely food.

***

"So," I ask softly, trailing a fingernail down the center of her chest as we cuddle in the back of the limo.

"So?" she replies and leans over to nuzzle just below my left ear.

"When-- How--?" I can't quite vocalize the questions swirling in my mind, particularly with her lips distracting me so expertly. "Why?"

"Why what?" she asks, pulling back to meet my gaze. When I gesture at her outfit, she grins sheepishly. "Oh, _this_. Well, you remember when we were talking about what Danielle had to go through to masquerade as Daniel, and how she managed to fool your mother, and so many others?"

I nod, mind stretching back into memories nearly half a century old. Her face blurs slightly in my vision and I can see Danielle's softly smiling eyes gazing back at me for just a few seconds. With time, the transition doesn't tug nearly as roughly at my poor heart as it initially did. I still miss Danielle fiercely, but Emma is _not_ some cheap replacement either.

"I remember the look in your eyes when you were talking about the transition between Danielle and Daniel, how you'd learned to help her with the binding, and…" She grins sheepishly, rubbing at the back of her neck. "I thought you might like to indulge in this little fantasy. I know it's not like it was with h--"

My fingers fly up to press against her lips, stopping her words. "No," I whisper, eyes misting with tears. "Don't do that, Emma, don't _ever_ do or think that." She nods slowly, eyes bright and wide. "I love you, I want you, I _need_ you. End of story."

Emma smiles and kisses my fingers. This brings a smile to my lips, and I quickly replace my fingers with them. She moans into the touch, tongue snaking out to glide across my lower lip. Her hands move up to cradle my face for a long moment before one slides down to rest over my heart. The heat sears into my skin, hotter than any fire.

"I love you, Gina," she whispers against my lips, "now and always." I can hear Danielle's voice blending with hers, but it's much softer than Emma's. "I only want your happiness."


	5. Stage 5: Commitment - Turning Point

"Gina?"

Emma's worried voice wraps around my senses as I curl into a miserable ball in bed. I can feel her nearness, crave it, but know that it will only make things worse.

"Don't touch me," I whisper, clutching at my stomach. "I'll vomit on you."

She chuckles softly and strokes my hair. "No, you won't," she whispers soothingly. "And even if you did, it'll wash off."

The bed dips, sending my stomach into a wild round of flips and flops that notch up my nausea. The heat of Emma's skin is oddly comforting as she curls her body around mine. She wraps an arm around my waist, hand splayed across my stomach. I can't help but cling to her arm in desperation.

"I'm dying," I groan. "That's all there is to it. And you are never to feed me store-bought macaroni salad again, Emma Swan. It was disgusting! Are you _trying_ to poison me?"

"Yes, my love," she replies dryly, "I'm trying to poison you. You've stumbled on my dastardly plan to become Mayor of Storybrooke by giving you food poisoning from perfectly fine macaroni salad. You caught me."

Shifting my head around to glare at her only makes my stomach heave even more. This time I can tell that it's not going to end well, and I scramble for the bathroom to vomit violently into the toilet. The sensation of gentle hands on my back and holding my hair brings tears to my eyes. She murmurs softly as I continue to throw up, even through my nasty case of dry heaves. I've no idea what she's saying, but just the soft sound of her voice is an anchor in my misery.

When my body finally stops trying to crawl out my mouth, I sag back wearily on my heels, hands on my thighs. Emma wets down a washcloth and gently wipes my face and neck before offering me a glass of water. I shove the glass away when my stomach rolls again; I'd rather live with the taste of vomit than actually vomit again.

"Come on, Gina, let's get you back to bed," she says, practically carrying me back to the bed. The sheets feel cool against my skin, and I want nothing more than to fall into an exhausted stupor. "Relax, honey, and I'll be back with something to help calm your stomach, okay?"

I hum distractedly, eyes closing, and focus on my breathing.

***

I'm not sure how long I was out, but the urge to throw up comes back with a vengeance. I struggle to get out of bed and into the bathroom. Curled over the toilet, all I can do is cry as my body is wracked with dry heaves, nothing left in my stomach to expel. My knees protest the cold, hard tiles, but I have no other recourse.

"Jeezus, Regina!" Emma exclaims as she appears in the bathroom.

I never even heard her come in. She's on her knees next to me, stroking my back and murmuring softly for long moments as my body rebels against me. I would sooner die than deal with this hell any longer. It feels like years have passed by the time I am finally able to straighten up from my hunched over position.

"Kill me," I moan, collapsing against her chest.

"Shh," she murmurs as she shifts to lift me into her arms. How she gets to her feet is a mystery to me. "You're white as a sheet, Regina. I'm taking you to the ER," are the next words out of her mouth as she heads back into the bedroom to gently deposit me on the bed.

"No…"

Moving into the closet, she grabs the thick velour bathrobe that I only ever use on the coldest of winter nights. She takes her time easing me into the warm, comforting material and says, "Yes, baby. This is scaring me." She lifts me into her arms again and I curl tightly into her as she leaves the bedroom. "Come on, kid!" she calls as we descend the stairs. "We're taking your mom to the hospital."

***

Even in post-curse Storybrooke, I am put near the top of the list in the ER. I won't even entertain the idea that the place is relatively dead. Perhaps the thought of dealing with me vomiting all over their floors is more of a motivator than expected. I curl up into a miserable ball as Emma explains what she knows to Dr. Whale and his idiotic staff. I growl ineffectively when they try to remove my robe, relenting only when Emma strokes my face soothingly. The nurses stick me far too many times for blood before forcing me to the bathroom for yet another disgusting sample from my body. But it means I can curl up in the robe that smells so strongly of my love, so I do it.

Somehow I manage to doze off while we wait for these incompetent fools to do their jobs.

"Gina," Emma's voice coos near my ear. "Come on, baby, wake up."

"No," I groan, curling into a tighter ball.

"Dr. Whale's back with your test results," she says, fingers stroking through my hair.

I shift up into a seated position, fearful that the movement will trigger off another round of violent heaving. It isn't until I'm fully upright that I realize there's an IV strapped into the back of my left hand. Emma's reassuring smile eases the bands around my heart before I turn to stare at Whale and say, "Well?"

He swallows nervously and consults the chart in his hands. That's when I feel Henry's small hand slip into my left hand. I tug lightly and smile when he climbs up to curl into my side. I can feel Whale's eyes on me and my family, but say nothing as I return my hard gaze to him.

"We, uh, ruled out food poisoning," he says, stammering over his words, "as well as any sort of stones, infections, or issues with your appendix. But, um…"

"Out with it, Doctor!" I growl, letting the anger try to overwhelm the fear at what he'll say.

"Yes, well, um…" He glances down at the chart for a moment before meeting my eyes again. "Congratulations, Mayor Mills," he finally says with a brief smile.

Confusion furrows my brow at his words. What in the hell is he trying to say? And then both Emma and Henry erupt into happy cheers. I stare back and forth at them, wondering if everyone in this damned town has suddenly lost their minds. When I see the tears in Emma's eyes, the fear kicks into high gear.

"I don't…"

"Are you sure?" Emma asks, tearing her eyes from my face to stare at the doctor.

I can see Whale nod and say something, but the words don't register over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. It isn't until Emma's hand tentatively presses to my stomach that I even consider the possibility. Looking down at my stomach, and Emma's hand being joined by Henry's, I feel the tears filling my eyes.

"What did you do, Emma?" I ask, voice far sharper than I know it should be.

She chuckles breathlessly and cups my face in her free hand to press a kiss to my lips. "You're the one that keeps reminding me that magic here is unpredictable."

I shiver at the implications of what she's saying, remembering many of the times I've said just those words to her. It can't be possible, and yet it is. There's no one else that's come anywhere near my body intimately since we became lovers, but I still don't understa…

"Danielle's spell," I whisper, eyes closing as tears spill down my cheeks. But that night was too far back… "How far along am I?" I finally ask Whale and vow to actually _listen_ to his words this time.

"About six weeks," he says, and I can see the faint signs of exasperation in his eyes. That must be what he was saying earlier when I ignored him. "You'll want to take it easy for the next couple of days, of course, and make an appointment for an exam. We can get more in depth on what you need to do then."

Nodding slowly, I let out the pent-up breath I haven't even realized I've been holding. "I-- Can I go home now?"

Whale nods and awkwardly pats my foot under the covers. "I'll send the nurse in with your release paperwork and such." He glances at Emma. "Sheriff Swan, please make sure she makes that appointment."

With that, he leaves the room. Silence settles around the three of us for a moment; the calm before the storm. Henry's the first to react, wrapping his arms around me in such a tight hug, I fear my ribs will crack.

"Mom, this is so cool!" he says with a broad, infectious grin. "I've always wanted a baby brother or sister."

His words bring the sting of tears to my eyes again, and I stroke his cheek gently. "You have?" When he nods, I frown. "But you never…"

"You weren't ready," is all he says before the nurse comes in.

I'm uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn as the nurse bustles about removing the IV and giving Emma the prescription slips. I sign my name where she indicates and nod woodenly when she congratulates me. I don't even fight the wheelchair they offer, unsure if my legs will actually carry me or not. Emma and Henry mock-fight over which of them will push me out to the car; Emma ends up winning by promising that Henry can help me into the house when we get home. Once in the car, Emma reaches over to stroke my cheek.

"Gina?" she asks softly. "You okay? You're awfully quiet."

I turn to face her, attempting a reassuring smile. "Just trying to wrap my brain around the news," I reply and rest a hand against my stomach. "I'll be fine, my love. I just want to go home."

"You got it," she replies, resting a hand atop mine. "I love you, my Gina."

"I love you, too, Emma mine," I reply as she pulls the car out of the parking lot and steers for home.

Our lives are about to change in so many ways, and I have no idea what to do except go along for the ride.


End file.
